


Focus

by TeenCaterpillar



Series: Harringrove Snippets [17]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Ableist Language, But Don't Know It Yet Really, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Pre-Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Is Smart, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, They Def Are Crushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeenCaterpillar/pseuds/TeenCaterpillar
Summary: He could save kids.  He could fightmonsters.  But he couldn’t read his fucking textbook.  Couldn’t get the words he wrote to sound like the ones in his head.  It was like everything he knew left when someone asked a question and he had to start from scratch every single time.  Because when he tried to just say it, to “let the words flow,” no one understood.  They’d look at him confused and either laugh or never answer him.  They couldn’t piece it together, couldn’t see what he meant.  So he didn’t know big words.  So he didn’t get good grades.  He wasn’tstupid.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington
Series: Harringrove Snippets [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1506065
Comments: 4
Kudos: 157





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda a Steve study that turned into preharringrove? Because I needed some soft boys after???
> 
> Unbeta'd
> 
> _**TRIGGER WARNING:**_ Steve's father uses the r-slur

He just wanted it to _work_. He just wanted his brain to _read the fucking words on the page_. He wanted to be able to focus. Wanted to be able to form sentences that didn’t make people look at him with _pity_. If he could just say it the way his brain thought it--

Steve slammed the book shut and threw it across his room, knocking his table lamp off and it thudded onto the carpet, luckily not breaking. He held his head in his hands, fingers gripping into his hair as he yanked, mumbling to himself,

“Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!” He let out a cry of frustration, feeling tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

Why couldn’t it just makes _sense_. Why did he have to read a sentence over and over and over to finally grasp what the _fuck_ it was saying.

He could save kids. He could fight _monsters_. But he couldn’t read his fucking textbook. Couldn’t get the words he wrote to sound like the ones in his head. It was like everything he knew left when someone asked a question and he had to start from scratch every single time. Because when he tried to just say it, to “let the words flow,” no one understood. They’d look at him confused and either laugh or never answer him. They couldn’t piece it together, couldn’t see what he meant. So he didn’t know big words. So he didn’t get good grades. He wasn’t _stupid_.

“You’re such a fucking _idiot_ ,” he hissed to himself, rubbing angrily at his eyes. He got up, stomping down the stairs, shocked when he heard an angry yell from his father’s study.

“Steven!” He paused, confused. His dad wasn’t supposed to get back from his trip for another few days. “Steven, _come here now_.” Steve swallowed, really not wanting to deal with his father, but that tone bore no argument. He dragged his feet, shuffling into his father’s study with his shoulders hunched. John Harrington sat in his ornate, plush chair, a stern look on his face. “Sit.”

“But I have--”

“ _Sit_.” So he did. His father just stared at him, mouth in a thin angry line. It made sweat bead on Steve’s temples. “What is this.” He pushed a letter forward and Steve pulled it closer, looking down. He felt the blood rush out of his body, where to, he didn’t know, and his stomach sank. It was a notice. A notice saying that Steve was toeing the edge of not being able to graduate.

“It looks like--”

“Don’t mouth off,” he snapped. “You said you were doing _better_. What happened to Nancy helping you, hm?” It wasn’t like his father knew, but it still felt like a slap to the face.

“She, uh, she’s busy. With her new boyfriend,” he mumbled. His father sighed, leaning back.

“I told you to hang onto her. I told you she was the best part of you.” Steve felt his heart clench and his eyes sting. He wasn’t going to cry in front of his father.

“She’s not--”

“Do you know what it would do to me if you _failed_? Do you know what it would do to our family name?” Yes. His father told him often how he’d ruin them, taint them. “How many times do I have to get it into that thick skull of yours: you’re nothing without a degree. You’ll be lucky to get a job flipping burgers.” He laughed, mean and cruel. “But that might even be too much for you.” Steve couldn’t look anywhere but his shaking hands. “Why is this so hard for you? It’s simple shit.”

“I told you, the words--”

“Don’t make sense, and yet here you are speaking english. You can read and write, you’re not illiterate, so _what’s the fucking problem_?” His dad had to be royally pissed to be swearing. Steve spared a glance up and wished he hadn’t. His father was looking at him not like a son, but a bad employee. Like some peon who was barely worth the time.

“I-I don’t know,” Steve stammered. “I-I--”

“ _I-I--_ ” His father mocked. “I am _tired_ of having a _retard_ for a son,” he snapped, voice raising. “I am tired of your inability to complete the simplest of tasks.” Steve felt his chin wobble. “Oh please,” his father scoffed. “You’re going to cry? Men don’t cry over these things, Steven. They take responsibility and they do _better_. You’re never going to get anywhere in life if you don’t start doing better.” He let out another cold and cruel bark of laughter. “No wonder Nancy dumped you. I’m sure it wasn’t the other way around.” Steve let out a choked off sob and he tensed up, knowing that was the _worst_ thing to happen at the moment. His father scoffed. “Oh, grow up, Steven.” He stood, tossing some packets into his briefcase. “Now, I’m off again for another few weeks and when I get back I expect you to have a new tutor, better grades, and a better attitude.”

“Yes,” Steve replied, standing himself. “Can I go now. I have homework.”

“Not like you can do it anyway,” his father muttered under his breath. Steve wasn’t sure if his father wanted him to hear or not, but he did. Steve stiffened, turning to leave. “Steven.” He stopped, back to his father. “If you don’t shape up soon, you’re going to be cut off. I don’t support dead weight.” Steve gave a sharp nod, practically running out of his father’s study. He ran to his room, shutting the door and sitting heavily on his bed. He let the tears fall, grabbing a pillow to squeeze and bite on, muffling the aborted sobs trying to wrench themselves from his body.

The next day, when he was once again trying and failing to read in class, stammering over the words as his brain moved faster than his mouth ever could, he heard someone whisper,

“ _Who can’t even read out loud? Idiot._ ” And Steve felt himself shut down. His vocal chords just stopped and he let out a weird sound, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, can I-- I need to go to the nurse.” He grabbed his stuff, standing up and rushing out, _stupid, idiot_ bouncing around in his head in a voice that was definitely his father’s. He ignored the teacher, opting to turn and make his way towards the doors.

Fuck his dad.

Fuck his classmates.

Fuck _Nancy_.

Fuck _everyone_.

Steve shoved the door open, blindly walking in the direction of the parking lot. He had to get out of here. He had to go somewhere else. He needed out. He needed--

“Harrington!” He _didn’t_ need Billy Hargrove following him out of class. He turned, anger, frustration, and sadness swirling and bubbling inside his chest.

“What, Hargrove?” He snapped. Billy held his hands up in surrender. “No, I’m not going to the nurse, feel free to fucking snitch, I don’t give a shit--”

“I’m _not_ a snitch,” Billy said, cutting him off. “I just--” He pursed his lips, looking like he was searching for the right words to say. It calmed Steve, for whatever reason. Billy stared at him, calculating, and it made Steve shiver. Billy smirked a little and moved closer. “You need to let off some steam, Harrington. Come on,” he pulled his keys out of his pocket, swaggering over to his car. Steve stared, unsure of what the fuck was even happening. Billy opened his door and raised a brow. “Unless you wanna go wallow alone?”

Steve didn’t.

Billy’s car smelled like stale cigarette smoke and his cologne. It made something pool in Steve’s belly that he’d been aware of since Billy had arrived, and he rolled down his window for some relief. He glanced at Billy from the corner of his eye.

Wind ruffled his curls, his sharp blue eyes focused on the road. He hadn’t turned on any music, which was weird, but he didn’t say anything either. Steve looked back out his window, fingers twitching against his knee.

“Light up,” Billy said, breaking the silence.

“Huh?”

“I can tell you want a smoke and _obviously_ I don’t give a shit if you smoke in my car. Just don’t ash inside, or I’ll have to leave you on the side of the road.” Steve snorted, pulling out his pack and lighting a cig.

“Good thing I’m pretty, then,” Steve grumbled. “I’ll definitely be able to get _someone_ to stop.” Billy let out a weird laugh, eyes snapping to Steve for a moment.

“That’s if anyone is even driving out here besides _us_.” Steve grinned, feeling weird and relieved. He hadn’t expected Billy Hargrove to follow him, hadn’t expected him to move past their weird truce, but he found himself feeling a little lighter.

They drove in silence for a while until Billy pulled onto a gravel road. Steve tossed his butt out the window, leaning forward.

“Where are we?”

“There’s a lake out here,” he said, voice subdued. “Good stones for skipping rocks. Or chucking rocks.” He parked on the grass, ignoring the NO TRESPASSING sign and getting out of the car. “Open the glove box and grab my shit, will ya?” Steve made a face.

“What?”

“Unless you _don’t_ wanna smoke my weed that I’m so _generously_ offering to a rich boy who can _definitely_ afford his own--”

“Got it, got it!” Steve found himself smiling, kind of touched. He wasn’t sure why Billy was being nice, was kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop, but fuck it. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The glove box popped open when he pulled, a pungent smell wafting out. “Damn,” Steve breathed, grabbing the little pill bottle and rolling papers he found inside. Billy was waiting impatiently by a small path in the grassy knoll before them.

“Hurry the fuck up!” He snapped. Steve got out of the car, shooting him the finger. He followed Billy down a steep hill, mostly comprised of dirt and patches of grass. There was a small lake, clear and glittering in the spring sun. The shore was made of rocks and Billy grabbed one, inspecting it before pulling his arm back and tossing the stone with a flick of his wrist. It skipped, once, twice, three times, before sinking. Billy scoffed. “I’m out of practice.”

“Lemme show you how it’s done, Hargrove,” Steve said, feeling in his element. With a grin, he shoved Billy’s weed into his hands and bent down. He picked through the stones, finally finding the _perfect_ one. The lake rippled under the stone as it skipped, totaling seven bounces before sinking into the water. Billy let out a low whistle.

“Well, color me impressed, Harrington,” he said, teeth stark and white as he grinned. Steve matched it, going back to looking for rocks.

“Roll us a joint,” he said, making a small pile of skippable rocks.

“Yes, your _highness_ ,” Billy replied, voice teasing and light. They were silent, enjoying the air and the company. Steve skipped some more stones, letting his mind go blank as he felt himself settle into the repetitive motions of skipping stones. He’d done it a lot as a child. It was easy, though it took skill, and it was quiet. Something he could do while his parents bickered on the beach. His mind went blank, his body settling into the motions as his mind wandered and ran. As he skipped, he thought about what it might mean to be with Billy, here, now. Thought about how Billy followed him out, how he _noticed_ Steve wasn't okay. It made him wonder.

He felt eyes on him and turned, meeting Billy’s stare. Blue eyes darted away, looking down as Billy stuck out his tongue to seal the joint. Steve felt something good and warm pool in his belly again and this time, he didn’t try to ignore it or push it away.

“You done yet?” He teased. Billy flicked open his zippo, lighting the end of the joint expertly.

“I still don’t have to share this with you, you know,” he called, exhaling the smoke through his nose. Steve went over, sitting next to Billy on the log snatching the joint from Billy and taking a hit. Billy’s eyebrows shot up. “Got some real fire you today, huh?” He smiled but it faltered, his eyes widening a moment before looking away. Steve remembered those words, remembered the Byers, and he tensed slightly. Billy looked ready to run, eyes looking anywhere but Steve, so he took another hit, exhaling slowly before holding the joint out to Billy. Who looked at Steve, quickly covering his shock with a blank face, taking the joint.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked. Billy shrugged one shoulder, knee bouncing.

“Got into it with my old man,” he replied, eyes distant. “Wasn’t really seeing you. If I had I wouldn’t--” He cut himself off, taking a large hit. Steve really had no idea what that meant, if he had known, but he _did_ know getting into it with your father. It made his heart pound a little faster, all of it still too fresh.

“I get that,” Steve said. Billy scoffed and Steve felt fury bubble up in him. Billy looked at him, eyes widening.

“No, wait--”

“I know you think I’m just some rich kid who gets everything he’s ever wanted,” Steve said, anger snapping through him like electricity, “But that doesn’t mean my life is fucking perfect.” Billy looked away, taking a quick hit. “I’m sure you wondered why I left today,” he said, glaring at the rocks in front of him. Billy held out the joint and Steve snatched it, puffing.

“Well, yeah,” Billy replied quietly.

“I’m not-- My dad came home unexpectedly from a work trip and he’d gotten a letter from the school.” He swallowed feeling shame rise up in his throat like bile. “It’s pretty much almost a given I’m not gonna graduate this year.” He heard Billy inhale sharply and felt his face heat up. “I’m not _stupid_ ,” he said, voice tight, “I just don’t-- Words don’t always look right or make sense and my brain moves faster than my mouth so I always end up sounding like I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But my dad,” he laughed humorlessly, “ _My dad_ doesn’t believe me. He just thinks I’m incompetent and lazy and an _idiot_. You know he said that I’m too dumb to flip burgers?” He took another puff of the joint.

“What the fuck?” Billy whispered, brow furrowed. “You’re not an idiot and your dad’s an asshole.” Steve laughed.

“He is an asshole, and I mean,” he sighed, “Maybe I am.”

“Look,” Billy sat up straighter, licking his lips. Steve’s eyes trailed the movement. _Shit_ he was fucking stoned. “I don’t know what really happened, ‘cause I know Max is lying, I just don’t know what about, but she says that you saved her.” Steve blinked. “She said you were quick and without you, her and her friends might have died.” Billy took a hit before ashing the roach. “I dunno about _that_ , seems like a hyperbole, but it takes smarts to navigate that kind of situation. Plus, I’ve watched you lead the team. You’re a good captain, and that takes brains too.”

“I mean, not--”

“You know how to strategize,” Billy ploughed on, almost like he couldn’t stop himself. “You know exactly what to do to get those kids, get _Max_ , to do what you want.” He turned, gaze intense and serious. “Grades rarely mean anything. People are smart in their own ways, Steve, and you’re _smart_. You’re _intelligent_ and _kind_ and you--” He stuttered to a stop, eyes widening. He stood up, walking to the edge of the water, picking up a rock and chucking it as far as he could.

Something shifted, something _good_ , Steve could feel it. He ran over Billy’s words in his head, went over the frankly overwhelming emotions building up inside him. He watched Billy chuck rocks, biting the inside of his lip. After a moment he stood, joining Billy in throwing stones as far as he could.

“Thank you,” he said, making Billy’s arm twitch and his throw come up short. He darted his eyes to Steve, a light flush on his cheeks. “There was a lot of shit that happened that night, and you were the least scary, you know.” Billy was silent. “If we’re gonna do this,” he swallowed thickly, “Friendship thing, I need to know you’re not gonna snap and beat the shit out of me.”

“I--” Billy let out a shaky exhale. “I honestly don’t know, man,” he mumbled. “I can’t guarantee I won’t snap, but I _know_ I won’t beat the shit out of you.” Billy looked out at the lake, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He looked pained, looked like he wished he could stop talking. Steve didn’t want that at _all_.

“Works for me,” he said, aiming for chipper. He wasn’t sure he quite got there, but either way, it did the trick. Billy smiled, something warm and soft that made Steve’s breath stutter. He finally looked at Steve then, up through his lashes, and Steve couldn’t help but smile back.


End file.
